Sitting late at night. Back at home and in for the night. Eating peanut butter sandwiches, reading Arthur C Clarke. And milk to drink, who cares about the dark? https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/10919228/posts/2425609608Read More In Other Words, Peanut Butter…
My gran’s budgie ate Trill, he chewed up the seeds with a will, He was imaginatively called Budgie Boy, a mirror with a bell was his favorite toy, which seemed to give him joy. But when you opened the cage door, he’d fly out and mess on the floor. Then gran to no avail, would […]Read More The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest – relative.
Would a tunnel of light lead to heaven? It well might. Does the Tunnel of Love lead to such a thing? It well might. Will a tunnel of books lead to knowledge? Do you need to ask? KytRead More Tunnels
No-one knew from whence they came, or why indeed they looked the same. Three rolled balls of different size, immobile snowmen without mouth or eyes. The TV news showed on the screen, wintry figures stood where snow before had never been. Desert, jungle, swamp and parched plain, the shapes appeared and did remain. Impervious to […]Read More The snowmen.